Valentine Murder (20 page)

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Authors: Leslie Meier

BOOK: Valentine Murder
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Many years went by and a thicket of briars grew up and surrounded the Enchanted Castle.
T
he snow was falling thickly by the time the older kids got home from school and several inches had already accumulated.
“No school tomorrow,” crowed Toby as he unzipped his jacket.
“Don't be so sure,” cautioned Lucy. “The forecasters have been wrong before.”
“It was on the loudspeaker,” said Sara. “The principal said no school tomorrow because of the snow emergency.”
“Really?” Lucy had never heard of this happening before. She went into the family room and switched on the TV, flipping to the weather channel. She waited impatiently while weather conditions in foreign capitals were reported and a batch of commercials were aired. When the broadcast resumed an earnest young woman in a bright blue suit assured her that gale force winds, freezing temperatures, and a record snowfall were expected to batter the entire Northeast. Just in case she had any doubts, the satellite weather map showed an enormous swirling mass just offshore.
“The National Weather Service has announced a storm warning for Northern New England, and a storm watch is in effect for Rhode Island and Connecticut right on down to New York City,” recited the weather girl. “This is a massive storm with serious destructive power and it is being watched closely. Flooding is expected in coastal communities and public safety officials are planning to evacuate some areas. Businesses and schools have been urged to close tomorrow and anyone whose job is not considered essential for public safety is encouraged to remain at home.”
“Will we be okay?” asked Sara.
“Sure,” said Lucy. “This old house has been through lots of storms.”
“I bet we'll lose electricity,” grumbled Elizabeth. “I hate that. It's so boring.”
“It's not so bad,” said Lucy. “What is it Daddy says? We'll have to watch TV by candlelight?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and groaned. “Right, Mom.”
“In the meantime, you can all get to work bringing in some wood for the stoves. Fill all the woodboxes and stack as much as you can on the porch, okay?”
“Do we have to?” asked Toby.
“Not if you don't mind freezing to death—get to work, all of you. Now.”
While the kids were busy with the wood, Lucy checked her food supplies. She had bought extra milk and bread that morning, and the freezer and pantry were full. A frozen turkey caught her eye, and she took it out of the freezer to thaw, planning to cook it tomorrow. The oven—thank goodness it was gas—would help keep the kitchen warm.
The flashlights all had fresh batteries, as did the radio, and they had plenty of candles and a couple of oil lamps. She set them all on the kitchen counter. Congratulating herself for remembering, she plugged her cell phone into the charger. After that there wasn't anything else to do so she went out to help the kids.
 
 
When Bill came home he had an enormous heart-shaped box of chocolates for Lucy and a bunch of flowers from the florist shop.
“You shouldn't have,” exclaimed Lucy, throwing her arms around his neck and nuzzling his beard.
“I didn't want you to be disappointed. I know how much you were looking forward to going out to dinner, but it doesn't look as if that's going to happen. They're saying snow right through tomorrow.”
“And then there's the digging out—that's going to take a while,” said Lucy, pulling away from Bill and starting to arrange the flowers in a vase. “Oh, well, there's always next year. Besides, we've got everything we need right here.”
“That's right,” agreed Bill, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “You're everything I need.”
“And I do have the chocolates,” said Lucy, leaning back against him.
“Tease,” he whispered, biting her ear.
Lucy turned around and raised her face for a kiss, but thought better of it when she heard Toby clattering down the back stairs. She stepped away from Bill with a sigh.
“What's for dinner?” Toby asked, poking his head into the kitchen.
“Lasagna,” said Lucy, opening the oven. “The lasagna of love.”
Toby looked from his mother to his father, a puzzled expression on his face. Spotting the box of chocolates, he asked, “Hey, can I have some of that candy?”
“No! That's my present and I haven't even opened the box yet.”
Seeing Toby's disappointment, she immediately felt bad. She always shared her Valentine's Day candy; it was a family tradition. “After supper—but I get the square ones,” she added.
 
 
That evening, Lucy asked Bill if he would look at the library figures. He took the file, but never opened it, opting instead to play some computer games with the kids. “We're bound to lose power soon,” he said, “and there's no telling how long it will be before we get it back.”
But although the wind howled all night, occasionally slamming the house with such strong gusts that the walls shook and the pictures swayed on their hooks, the electricity was still on in the morning.
“It's because it's such light, powdery snow,” said Bill, sipping his coffee and looking out the kitchen window.
“It's just a matter of time,” said Lucy, stirring the oatmeal. “All it takes is for one tree to get blown down on the wires.”
“Is the snow deep?” asked Zoe, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
“At least a foot, and there's more to come,” said Bill, scooping her up for a hug. “Happy Valentine's Day!”
The storm was already being called the Valentine's Day Blizzard when Lucy checked the weather channel after breakfast. Toby and Elizabeth were sleeping the morning away but Sara and Zoe were busy making Valentines out of construction paper and doilies.
Lucy had plenty to do, too. She had mixed up some cornbread for turkey stuffing and while it was baking had started a batch of cupcakes. Rummaging in a drawer, she found some paper liners printed with hearts and set them in the tins, carefully filling them with chocolate batter. The girls could ice them later—they'd love decorating them with candy.
Bill, however, was restless. Unable to go to work, he wandered from window to window, looking out at the storm. “No sense shoveling,” he said. “It's drifting too much. Might as well wait 'til it stops.” Cooped up in the house, he flipped channels nervously. Regular programming had been cancelled; the stations were competing to have the latest news on the record-breaking blizzard.
Periodically, he'd give her a report. “The entire Northeast is shut down, even the stock market.” A few minutes later: “Terrible flooding in Cape Cod. Houses gone in Chatham, terrific damage to the National Seashore beaches.” Off he'd go, only to return with more news. “Fifty-foot seas—they say a Liberian tanker is in trouble off Nantucket. The Coast Guard's on the way, but they're not holding out much hope.”
“You're making me nervous,” said Lucy. “Can't you find something to do?”
“Sorry,” he said. “You probably don't want to hear about the tragic fire in Fall River.”
“You're right, I don't,” said Lucy, tipping the cornbread out onto a wire rack. “How'd you like to chop up some onions? You know how they make me cry.”
“Sure,” he said eagerly. “How many? Ten? Twelve?”
“Two.”
“I can do more.”
“The recipe says two.”
“Okay,” he said, setting the chopping board on the counter. “Mind if I take a look at that recipe?”
While Bill made the stuffing, Lucy poured herself another cup of coffee. She sat down at the kitchen table to keep him company.
“Have you had a chance to look at those library figures yet?” she asked.
“Not yet,” said Bill, who was carefully slicing the cornbread into cubes.
“Do you know what to look for?”
“Not exactly—I'm no accountant. But since the guy who was writing the checks has turned out to be a compulsive gambler, it seems logical to look for inflated costs. That might mean he was getting kickbacks.”
“That would mean somebody else was involved—the subcontractors, right?”
“Yeah,” agreed Bill, thunking a frying pan onto the stove and popping in a cube of butter. When it had finished sizzling, he added the onion and stirred it around. “When you think about it, this wasn't Gerald's first construction project. As president of the college he was responsible for several new buildings. I bet he's done this before, and knows just which subcontractors will play ball with him. That was one of the first things I was going to look for—see if he's been using the same contractors on a number of projects.”
“But I thought Ed was in charge of the library addition.”
“As I understand it, he was keeping an eye on the day-today progress. Making sure that the actual construction was being done right, that they were using the right materials. Gerald was in charge of the checkbook.” He snorted, dumping the onions into the bowl of corn bread and mixing them together. “Kind of like putting the fox in charge of the chicken coop, when you think of it. Now you have to take it from here,” he said, handing her the bowl of stuffing. There's no way I'm going to get intimate with a turkey.”
“Okay,” laughed Lucy.
 
 
The storm continued through the afternoon. Toby and Elizabeth woke around one o'clock and immediately began fighting over who would get the first shower. Toby won and was making himself a fried egg, cheese, and bologna sandwich when Elizabeth appeared in the kitchen.
“That's disgusting—do you know what that does to your arteries?” asked Elizabeth, popping half of an English muffin into the toaster.
“I don't care,” said Toby, setting the hot pan in the sink and filling it with water, creating a cloud of steam. “At least I'm not anorexic.”
“I'm not anorexic—I eat plenty,” insisted Elizabeth.
“Half of an English muffin isn't much of a breakfast,” said Lucy. “How about some cereal or yogurt?”
Elizabeth exhaled noisily and rolled her eyes. “I can figure out what I want to eat for myself, thank you very much.”
“Fine.” Lucy looked out the window at the blowing snow, which had drifted against the shed, practically covering it. She wished she hadn't joined Toby's bandwagon by urging Elizabeth to eat more breakfast—she knew Elizabeth was terrified of getting fat and telling her to eat more would only be met with stubborn resistance. Lucy's plan so far had been to keep tabs on her daughter's daily intake and when it dropped too low, instead of nagging, she made one of her favorite foods. When even this didn't work she had a secret weapon: an imported chocolate and hazelnut spread loaded with fat and calories that Elizabeth couldn't resist.
“I made some cupcakes—maybe you could help Sara and Zoe frost them,” she suggested.
“Okay.” Elizabeth was finished with breakfast. She slipped her plate into the sink, whirled around, and tapped Toby on the shoulder. “Your turn to do the dishes,” she crowed, beating a hasty retreat.
Toby sprang to his feet to chase her, but Lucy intervened. “Load the dishwasher. I'll make sure she does them next time.”
“Mom,” he wailed, beginning to protest, then changed his mind when Lucy gave him a sharp look. “Okay.”
 
 
The house seemed to shrink as the afternoon wore on. Toby and Elizabeth couldn't be in the same room without squabbling, and even normally placid Sara and Zoe began to bicker. The wind and snow were still coming down at four, but Bill dragged Toby outside to shovel anyway. “Might as well get a start,” he said. “Besides, you've been sitting at that computer all day. You could use some exercise.”

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